


Life Was One Long Emergency

by Infamous_society



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Gen, In Europe it’s not so I don’t care, I’m European writing about American college help, Languages, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, Vine references all the way, Vines, i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infamous_society/pseuds/Infamous_society
Summary: Natasha didn’t expect her old neighbour to appear in her Russian class speaking with a Brooklyn accent. Bruce didn’t realise he’d have to explain there’s no raw fish festivals in the USA. Steve, the golden boy, can hold his drinks better than anyone expected, especially Clint. Tony thought he was smart until he met Peter and Shuri. Peter Quill is a hiding under the bleachers and Cheetos person. Rhodey and Sam are done with their idiot friends.Another Avengers in college AU.Stucky chapter is now up!





	1. You Left To Find A Better Reason Than The One You’re Living For (Bucky, Natasha)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StuckyandStarWars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckyandStarWars/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha hates her Russian class, she’s from Russia she’s only taking it as a credit because she knows she’ll pass. Until someone from her past walks in speaking in a strong Brooklyn accent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from For You by Bruce Springsteen (Greetings From Asbury Park NJ)

Natasha didn’t necessarily like sleeping in but it didn’t mean that she wanted an 8:30 start. She also didn’t necessarily dislike this lesson but she was already fluent in Russian. 

Her head fell on her desk as she listened to the teacher explain the grammar rules for what felt like the hundredth time. She was surprised that no one had realised she was fluent - it wasn’t like she actually payed attention in these lessons. Half a year of speech therapy and she was speaking English with an American accent. 

Naturally, as soon as she saw Russian was offered as a credit she seized the opportunity. A guaranteed pass and an almost guaranteed graduation. 

Silence descended on the room as the door creaked open. Wearily, Natasha lifted her head. 

“Hi,” the voice spoke. Natasha froze. She recognised it. Cautiously, her eyes drifted towards the door where a figure stood. 

“I’m Bucky, is this the Russian class?” The accent was so thickly Brooklyn, Natasha doubted herself for a second. Trying to conceal her shock, she tried to focus on the murmurs going around the class before focusing on the empty seat next to her. 

The teacher merely nodded and gestured at the seat next to Natasha. She gulped, steadying her hands. Would Bucky remember her? 

The chair scraped along the floor, echoing around the classroom. 

“So grammar rules?” Bucky asked. Natasha turned her head slowly, glancing at him. He had changed, yet still he retained a familiar look. His hair was longer, but now it was pulled back in a low bun. His jaw was sharper, his smile was sadder and his eyes held more secrets. But he was still Bucky. He had called himself James; back then she was Natalia. 

He was still Natasha’s old neighbour in Russia. 

But now he was speaking with a Brooklyn accent as if he had lived there his whole life. She knew that he was immigrant from somewhere that spoke English, occasionally he would speak it to her -trying to teach her basic words. 

Now he was sitting next to her, pretending not to understand Russian. 

Dutifully, Natasha bowed her head and started explaining the rules to Bucky, knowing full well he could understand them. At least she knew he understood them when he told her that he would never leave her and never forget her.

That felt like a thousand years ago now, far away from the cramped classroom in Manhattan.  

Basic Russian flew between them but Natasha couldn’t focus. Did Bucky really not remember who she was? Surely she hadn’t changed that much.  

_”Natalia!” Green eyes widened as she heard her name being called. “Natalia! Our new neighbours have arrived! Come here!”_

_Cautiously she crept to the front door, peering around the corner, gasping in delight as she saw a young boy around her age._

_Quickly bursting into a tirade of six year old Russian she rambled about how it was nice to meet them. The boy just stared blankly, confusion dancing in his eyes._

_“Natalia,” a voice chastised from above her, “This is James, he doesn’t speak much Russian so why did you expect him to understand you?”_

“That’s the wrong word,” Natasha indicated to the verb endings. She wanted to scream in frustration, Bucky knew the word, he knew the verb endings - he wasn’t a seven year old stumbling through short sentences anymore. 

Bucky looked apologetic, “Sorry, my ma wanted me to take this lesson. I don’t speak Russian very well.” 

Natasha narrowed her eyes - James could never lie properly. She had heard the hitch in his voice when he mentioned his mum, she heard the wavering when he spoke about Russia. 

_A small tap on her window. She looked up, brushing the ginger hair out of her face. There was the grinning face of James._

_She opened the window and let him fall into her room._

_“How’s your mum?” Anxiety laced her voice. God bless her soul, Mrs. Barnes was sweet but gravely ill._

_James places a kiss on her temple, hugging her tightly, “She’ll live long enough to see Becca’s next birthday.”_

_Natasha inwardly winced, “James, I...I won’t be here for her next birthday. I’m leaving next week - I’m going to America.”_

Small talk flitted between the two, enough for it just to be comfortable. Natasha wanted to punch him - she already knew everything he was telling her about. She told him the basics: her anglicised name, her favourite colour, that she liked ballet dancing in her spare time. 

Soon enough, the class was drawing to a close. Grabbing her now empty coffee cup, Natasha stood next to Bucky feeling slightly awkward. 

“Hey,” Bucky smiled at her - she raised an eyebrow. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number...you seem cool and you can help me with my Russian.” 

“Of course James,” Natasha grinned, remembering how long ago he had asked her a similar thing.  

Time stopped. 

A frown crept onto Bucky’s face. 

“James?” He asked, confusion evident. 

Natasha felt her face sink then mentally cursed herself for it, she had a mysterious aura to maintain in the class. 

Before she could reply, Bucky had turned to stare at Natasha in the eyes. Piercing blue staring right into her soul. 

“James?” He asked again, more confident this time. “Only my mum and Natalia called me that.” 

A flicker of hope ignited inside her. 

Bucky blinked. 

His voice, coated in the thick Russian accent she was used to, speaking Russian like they used to, now spoke, “Natalia?” 

She mocked a courtesy, “The one and only James. So don’t pretend you can’t speak Russian.” 

Looking slightly flabbergasted, Bucky smiled. His arms wrapped around her. Memories of nights spent whispering about politics and love flashed before her eyes. 

“Why are you in this class pretending you can’t speak Russian then?” He asked. 

Natasha allowed herself to laugh, “I know I’ll pass it.” 

“Stop copying my ideas!” Bucky grinned. His face dropped slightly, becoming more brooding, “But honestly Natalia, I thought I’d never see you again...I’m sorry.” 

She frowned at him, “I left Russia before you, don’t apologise. I left when you needed me the most.” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “But what happened to your accent?”

”Well what happened to your accent?” She glared. 

“I’m from Brooklyn.” 

Her hand reached up to slap him but he caught it quickly, “James you never told me. I’m Russian it wasn’t like I could tell American accents apart.” 

Meekly a whispered ‘sorry’ made its way past Bucky’s lips. He grinned down at her, letting her step away slightly. 

“I’m sticking round here for the next few years, Nat, you’re not getting rid of me anymore.” 

Natasha smiled, maybe Russian wouldn’t be so boring anymore, “Come on. I’ve got friends you need to meet and we’ve got several years to catch up on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became really dark whoops. But there needs to be an introduction to their friendship/previous romance somehow.


	2. What Goes Up Must Come Down (Clint, Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Clint have already pranked people - just the wrong people. Good job both of them are used to diving out of windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Learning to Fly by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers.

“God dammit Barton!”

Clint visibly gulped.

“Why do you never learn! I told you not to do that!”

Next to him, Sam sniggered. 

“Shut up Wilson! You were involved as well!” 

Sam’s eyes widened in fear. 

Pepper was standing, covered in mac and cheese, fists clenched. Behind her stood a less than amused Peggy Carter, drenched in water. 

Steve grinned at Clint and Sam from behind Peggy, finger gunning them and their doomed fates. Clint chuckled slightly. 

“Steve. Don’t you get involved!” Peggy chastised, her British accent thick, before narrowing her eyes back at Sam and Clint. 

Pepper took a step forwards, doing her best to conduct herself properly whilst her shoes squelched with cheese, “We’ve been here two days! Two fucking days! And you’ve already managed to break into the girls dorms, find out which room we’re staying in and prank us!” 

“Hey that mac and cheese was expensive!” Clint frowned. 

“And Peggy, darling, it’s been a week since you were in England - we thought you might be missing the rain,” Sam followed up Clint’s remark. 

Pepper and Peggy glanced at each other before charging forwards towards the boys in the chairs.

Yelping like dying cats, Sam and Clint lept over the backs of the chairs, cowering in fear at the girls. 

Taking a quick glance at each other, the boys nodded. There was an open window. They were about three metres up. There was grass beneath the window - the girls had reasonably nice dorms.

Originally, they had intended for this prank to be a quick in and out - however Pepper knew Clint and Sam already and knew their pranking tendencies. 

Maybe they hadn’t planned this as well as they had thought. 

It wasn’t actually that the mac and cheese was expensive, or that the prank wasn’t funny. It was just now they had Pepper Potts and Peggy Carter on their case. Less than a week in to the school year. 

Clint’s shoulder twitched. 

Sam’s thighs tightened. 

Jumping up, they both ran. 

And dived straight out of the open window. 

A shout of, “you deserved that you absolute wankers!” followed; courtesy of Peggy. 

Hitting the ground and rolling, both Clint and Sam lay in shock, with a couple of grazed elbows. Grinning like maniacs, they started laughing. The ultimate pranking duo was back at it again. 

Maybe buckets balancing on a door was a bit predicatable but it had worked. It was definitely worth the looks they were getting as they lounged on the grass. 


	3. In The Whirlwind Searching For Lost Treasure (Steve, Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s first language was Irish Gaelic, a fact Bucky reminded him of. And it’s not fair that Bucky should be so obscenely hot speaking Irish.

“That’s not how I remember your name being spelt,” was all Bucky had said for Steve to have a meltdown. 

Bucky and Steve had been inseparable since birth, until Bucky was seven when he moved to Russia. They’d made their way back together eventually - continents not enough to separate them fully. Of course that meant Bucky still could remember little things about him from when he was young. Including how Steve’s first language was Irish Gaelic not English.

_Stíofán Rogers_

Steve grimaced, he hadn’t spelt his name like that since he was ten. It was too complicated. 

But now Bucky was back, a painful reminder of his past, living in the room next door to him. 

Whispers of ‘Dia duit’ crept back in his mind, which would typically be followed by ‘dún an dorass’ and a bright smile. 

Right now all Steve could do was stare blankly at the textbook, trying to focus on the English. It was something about renaissance art, how it was truly the first time artists in Europe actually accurately studied the human form. 

 “ _Mamai, ní thuigim,” a broken voice had cried._

_A trembling hand had touched his, “Tá me go maith.”_

Steve shook his head, he had to focus on the lesson. Ten minutes left. 

* * *

It wasn’t that he had meant to let it slip, but he was sleep deprived - who wasn’t?

Tony had sauntered up to him shouting something in Italian (it sounded like comma sty, Steve had no idea), so of course he couldn’t reply in English. 

“Dún do chlab mór!” He had exploded before inwardly wincing - even saying something like that made his mouth taste faintly of soap. It wasn’t that it was rude, just his mother didn’t see the funny side when he started using hell as an adjective. 

Essentially Tony did what Steve had asked him to - he had shut the hell up. 

Shocked faces were looking at Steve: the golden boy, the artist, suddenly shouting in another language was surprising.

One face was grinning at him still. Bucky. Bucky was wearing a shit eating grin - knowing full well what Steve had said. Quickly he had whispered something to Natasha in Russian before turning back to Steve. 

“Stíofán! You shouldn’t use such language!” Bucky mocked in a high pitched voice and Steve had to do a double take. 

His name had flown off Bucky’s tongue with such ease, he could only stare.

_God that was hot_

Feeling the heat rising to his cheeks, Steve ducked his head bashfully.

“Abair aris é,” Bucky taunted, literally begging Steve to say it again. Steve just wanted him to shut up. The atmosphere of confusion had started wearing off as Steve stepped towards Bucky. Not many people spoke Irish as far as Steve was aware, people listening probably thought it was a childhood language they were speaking in.  

Steve just scowled, arms crossed over his chest, “You’d better not be encouraging me, Buck. I haven’t spoken Irish with anyone for eight years.” 

It took a second for Bucky’s face to drop and a moment longer for him to wrap his arms around Steve. 

“If it helps, Becca stopped speaking in English to me and after Natasha left no one could speak a word of English,” Bucky reminisced. 

Steve cringed, he didn’t want reminding of Bucky moving to Russia, he didn’t want to think of what might have been or what could be - he just wanted to be grounded. 

So, stepping out of Bucky’s embrace, he grinned, “Dia duit.” 

Bucky touched his hand gently, “Dia is Muire dhuit.” 

Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or if he wanted to kiss Bucky so he opted for neither and instead sunk into the seat next to Tony.

Tony grinned, almost confidentially, “It’s fine Cap, your secret’s safe with me. Your boy is damn fine.” 

Raising one eyebrow, Steve acknowledged the truth with a sigh before collapsing onto the table, head in hands. 

Looking up at the faces of his friends surrounding him, some amused, some concerned, some unfazed.

Steve lifted his head, “If any of you say a word, I swear I will cuss you out in Irish so you suffer twice over.” 

Catching Bucky’s eyes twinkling like sapphires and taking in the casual smirk dancing on his lips, Steve instantly regretted his words.

Seemingly like someone had striked a match, Bucky lit up, “Bí cinnte de! Head’s rude at the table.” 

Spluttering, Steve felt himself turn bright red. He wasn’t sure if it was just Bucky’s inappropriate phrasing or if it was just Bucky speaking Irish. 

Groaning once more, he dropped his head. 

They were only less than a week into college. He wasn’t going to survive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I speak 8 languages (only speak 3 fluently)  
> Another fun fact: Irish is surprisingly not one of them  
> So I’m sorry if the Irish is wrong but Steve speaking Irish Gaelic is just too good bc languages are hot (a.k.a youse are gonna get a lot of languages thrown in to this story in loads of places)


	4. It Tastes Like Caviar And Dirt (Bruce, Thor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Scandinavian traditions are slightly different to American habits, but Bruce didn’t expect them to be so drastic, in fact he didn’t even want to think about eating raw fish ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Better Days by Bruce Springsteen

The problem started with Thor Odinson. It wasn’t him exactly, it was more the fact that he was a Norwegian who spent a lot of his childhood in Sweden. 

Bruce didn’t know exactly what to expect when starting college. Sure, a couple of students from elsewhere here and there. But not a blond from Scandinavia who just couldn’t grasp the concept of American life. 

Thor spoke English perfectly, without an accent. He pretty much blended in, except from the fact he was 6’3 of pure muscle and he still couldn’t tell the difference between a $1 note and a $50 dollar note. 

He was living next door to Bruce, so immediately he had been knocking on the door, over excited to meet his new neighbour. Apparently everything was a bit confusing for Thor and Bruce was left unable to formulate a response because how do you reply to a question asking about which cartoon you like watching on Christmas Day. 

Bruce found it endearing. 

He would be preparing to go into the lab and there would be a text message from Thor saying that he thought April had already been so why was the date saying it hadn’t. 

On the first day of surviving college, Thor had dragged him around all the local fast food places saying he wanted to try cuisine from the USA. Honestly it made Bruce feel kind of sick, and sit in awe at how much Thor ate. 

Natasha, Wanda, Pietro and Peggy had never acted in the way Thor did but Bruce supposed there had to be exceptions. 

Bruce wasn’t really expecting to have to explain why there were no raw fish festivals. He wasn’t expecting Thor to talk about his favourite Swedish dish he would eat every summer when they visited. It made his stomach churn thinking about it. 

“Hey Bruce!” Thor had boomed one evening, walking in to Bruce’s room, “When is the raw fish festival being held?” 

Doing a double take, Bruce stared questioningly at Thor, “What’s a raw fish festival?” 

“A festival for raw fish. Everyone buys raw fish,” Thor shook with laughter. Instinctively Bruce scrunched up his nose. 

“No we don’t have raw fish festivals, are you Scandinavians alright?” was the only sentence Bruce could properly form.

Thor’s eyes widened, almost comically large. Bruce had to stop for a second - just wondering how someone could look so adorable. 

“So you don’t have sour herring?” It seemed like an innocent question but the entire thought made Bruce feel like his whole face was turning green. 

Thor, noticing Bruce’s reaction, took it upon himself to explain the dish, “Herrings are taken from the Baltic in April then left to ferment until August! It’s nice with potatoes and onion.” 

In Bruce’s mind, he couldn’t think of a delicacy that sounded worse. 

“Ah...” he started then stopped, “In America we don’t eat that, we’ve got cheeseburgers and sprayable cheese.”

Thor frowned very slightly before grinning, “you’ll have to visit Norway then!”

Bruce’s face flushed red - the invitation seemed almost intimate. 

Collapsing on his bed with a sigh, grinning up at the blond ball of sunshine above him, “as long as you don’t take me to a raw fish festival.”

Thor frowned slightly. 

Bruce found himself batting his eyelids slightly, “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear my lovely Scandinavian friends, or friends of Scandinavian heritage please don’t hurt me.  
> I’d rather eat Scandinavian food than food from the USA. Where I grew up it’s pretty much a Scandinavian diet but not quite so I do appreciate it more than pure grease.


	5. I’ll Shake This World Off My Shoulders (Peter Q)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on under the bleachers. And Peter Quill just can’t stop dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mild drug usage (weed) and alcohol usage.  
> Also thanks to @StuckyandStarWars for giving me a bunch of these ideas!

“Oh oh oh woah oh oh oh,” came the shouts from under the bleachers. 

Peter Quill was dancing around in battered trainers, his ‘Gear Shift’ top starting to turn dark grey with sweat. His walkman was pressed firmly into his hands, headphones blasting music as loud as possible. 

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world.”

Next to him sat Gamora, amusement sparkling in her eyes, all caramel, honey and chocolate as the thin streaks of sun caught her skin. 

Peter Quill and his group of friends (they used to call themselves the Guardians) claimed the spot under and on the bleachers within the first few hours of college. 

Rocket and Groot sat hiding in the shadows, nodding along to the out of key singing, Groot scowling as Rocket placed down a seven of spades. Gamora followed by placing a two of diamonds, causing Groot to laugh at Rocket. 

“Guys,” Peter’s breathing was slightly uneven from dancing, “Who’s up for some Bon Jovi?” 

A collective murmur of agreement rose from the group. 

Gamora grinned as she flicked the lighter, “I used to think Bon Jovi were a bunch of fat mafia bosses who chainsmoked and sang about cowboys.” 

Rocket rolled his eyes, “Of course you would.” Groot nudged him; Rocket was still slightly bitter about Quill taking his spot. 

The blunt hung losely between Gamora’s elegant fingers as she took a drag, before she picked up the bottle of beer and took a swig - Peter watching her every move. 

He had invited Gamora a total of four times within the first day, begging her to stop by. Eventually she conceded, even if it was for the free beer. But now she was staring at his dancing, letting herself sway to the beat. 

She passed the blunt to Rocket, who mumbled something about how blackjack is a rigged game. Groot refused, only taking a little sip of the beer. 

Peter was still dancing but stopped when he saw the food. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Rocket he asked, “Where did you get this food from?” 

Shrugging casually Rocket replied, “Stole it from the concession stand.” 

“That’s why it’s shit,” Groot snided, everyone looking at him in slight shock - he rarely talked. 

Grimacing, Peter turned away, pulling a packet of Cheetos from seemingly thin air. The blunt passed to him next. Quickly turning off his Walkman, Dancing In The Dark started blasting through the speakers. 

Several long drags later, Peter was still dancing, but instead he was laughing like a maniac as the cool tones of the saxophone drifted around him. 

A haze of smoke hung in the air, a slightly bittersweet smell darting through the smoke. 

Cheeto dust covered Peter’s fingers as Gamora drank once more then stood up and grabbed his hand to dance. 

Rocket and Groot peppered kisses down each other’s necks, occasionally breaking into muffled laughs as the song sang about love reactions. 

_Even if we’re just dancing in the dark_

The shout of ‘hey baby!’ echoed across the fields. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t mix alcohol and weed, I know the result’s kinda hilarious but the physical effects are dangerous!  
> Also Peter Q, Tony, Clint and Bucky are definitely stoners sorry I don’t make the rules.


	6. Never Mind The Stars And The Stripes (Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy is annoyed and truth-be-told a little bit confused by this country. If it wasn’t for her friends she’d much rather be back in the UK.

“I just want to play netball,” Peggy drawled. 

Confused faces stared back at her. 

“Netball?” Steve asked. 

Natasha frowned, “Netball?” 

“What the hell is netball?” Bucky echoed. 

Sighing heavily, Peggy threw her hands in the air, “Of course the two superpowers of the world don’t play netball!” 

The group looked at each other, similar expressions on their faces. Peggy crossed her arms, a determined look crossing her face. 

“Netball is one of the best sports in the world,” Peggy started, glaring at anyone who dared open their mouths. “Netball is like basketball just more complicated and more fun.” 

Instantly, cries of protest rose from the group. Only Pepper remained quiet. 

Peggy circled the table like a vulture, ready to make its next move on the carrion. 

“You can only take two steps with the ball, you can only turn on one foot and there are different areas you’re allowed in depending on your position,” she paused thoughtfully. “I play Wing Attack.” 

Confused looks turned into baffled expressions which turned into hints of amusment and shock. 

“Wing Attack?” Bucky mimicked. “That should be Clint and Sam’s name if they start dating.” 

A nervous snicker followed. 

Peggy stared once at Bucky before turning to Steve, “Steve please get your boy toy under control, if he makes another comment like that I might just have to sort him out.” 

Steve rolled his eyes as he flushed red, elbowing Bucky in the side which drew a cry of protest from the latter. 

Taking a bite of his pizza, Tony laughed. Peggy trained her eyes on him, then the pizza. 

She looked like she was on the warpath. 

“And the food here!” She yelled, “the food is dripping grease how aren’t you all dead!” 

Everyone looked down at their food, noticing how next to Peggy’s there was a napkin covered in oil. 

Natasha shrugged and took a bite from her apple. 

“Also what is wrong with you people? Why isn’t the tax added on to the price! I go to the check-out till expecting something to be worth three quid - wait no three dollars - but actually it’s worth five dollars all of a sudden,” Peggy was raging, her standard English accent lessening - morphing into a more regional one.  

With her last statement, Natasha, Thor and Bucky were all nodding. The Americans all paused for a second, looking rather perplexed. 

 Clint (being Clint) couldn’t resist the opportunity to pipe up, “Look Peggy, you’ve made your boyfriend upset; he’s so patriotic that his surname should be America.” A dramatic hand was placed on his forehead, “Yet you’ll viciously tear the country apart like this?”

Peggy took one look at Clint - she was all sharp angles and rouge. 

“I’m a lesbian, Clint.” She deadpanned. 

Natasha grinned at Clint, signing at him. 

Tony shrugged, “Carter radiates big dick energy and her name is Peggy. Did you really expect her to be straight?” 

A few murmurs here and there before Peggy was throwing her head back with laughter, “You guys are honestly what makes the USA bareable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will stand by Tony’s statement.  
> Also the USA is extremely confusing and also really oppressive and really racist and ignores the genocide of native people.


	7. Morning, It’s Time To Get Up (Tony, Rhodey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey breaks some news to Tony over coffee. Quite literally.

Liquid heaven peeped through clouds of cream. 

“Rhodey?”

Rhodey paused, caught in the act. 

“Where’s my Redbull?” 

Placing the coffee down next to Tony, Rhodey shrugged, “I didn’t get you a Redbull.” 

Tony scowled, an attempt at being terrifying as he lounged on the beanbag, “Pourquoi pas?” 

Work was scattered across his lap, astrophysics theories, blueprints of machines. All of which was quickly forgotten as he looked in disgust at the Costa coffee cup, “I need my caffeine, Rhodey, you should know that.”

“Stephen Strange thought you might like it,” Rhodey brushed his friend’s annoyance off like it was merely a speck of dust. 

The reaction Tony had as Stephen’s name was mentioned was something Rhodey would never let him forget. Gone was his cool, calm, collected composure and instead was a blushing mess that knocked paper everywhere. His hand quickly shot up to clutch the drink. 

Slowly he relaxed, trying to reply casually, “Oh well that was nice of him.”

”Also, Costa coffee has more caffeine in it that Redbull does,” Rhodey added, almost as an afterthought.  

The silence was broken. 

A screech of disbelief sounded around the room.

“What!” Yelled Tony, all embarrassing thoughts of him and Stephen vanished from his mind.

He pointed a stern finger at Rhodey, “And you’ve been letting me drink Redbull this whole time?”

Shrugging, Rhodey just grinned. 

“What do you mean it has more caffeine than Redbull? Redbull is  _the_ caffeine drink - it gives you wings!” 

Quickly flipping off Rhodey, who was now filming the fiasco, he continued. 

“Dio mio! What do you expect me to do with this fact? Are the government deliberately hiding the truth from us all? Will Costa have to have a Formula One team? It’s all lies!” Tony buried his head in his hands before chugging the coffee in one go, scrambling to disguard the cup and pick up the paper. 

“Tony?” A voice spoke from above him. 

Tony froze, stretched out on the floor, in a less than elegant position. He knew the voice. 

“Tony? Are you alright?” Stephen Strange was standing next to him. 

Tony cringed internally before pulling himself up, papers in hand, “Uh...I wasn’t doing - I just think - uh... thank you for suggesting that coffee to Rhodey for me.” 

Winking at Tony, Stephen smiled, “I’ll get you a coffee anytime.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is honestly on crack I’m sorry guys.


	8. When I Realised You Didn’t Have The Brain Of A Mosquito (Peter, Shuri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Shuri love quoting Vine. Apparently there’s some older students as well who find it hilarious.

The scrunched up ball of paper hit Shuri on the back of the head. 

Turning around in fury she yelled, “Whoever threw that paper, your mum’s a hoe!” 

Internally cringing, she realised she was in a room surrounded by people who were all older than her, except from Peter, and they probably didn’t appreciate her screaming swears at the top of her voice. 

Peter, on the other hand, burst out laughing. 

Tony grinned at her, giving her a little wave as he sat next to Bruce - they had been working in the labs together this morning. 

Both Peter and Shuri were part of a programme that ran for ‘intelectually gifted children interested in a career in STEM.’ That didn’t stop them from being immature. That also especially didn’t stop them from screaming vine references whenever the opportunity arose. 

So, now, as they sat in the cafeteria there was no other option but to quote vines as a ball of paper hit Shuri. 

And there was no other option than to sit still and shrivel up as the whole room fell silent. 

Until Tony and Sam Wilson starting howling with laughter. 

Soon the whole room followed, the laughter winding in between the miserable and the ecstatic. 

Peter just raised one eyebrow at her, his brown hair flopping forward into his eye at the same time. The room quitened once more. 

“Country boy...” he started before trailing off. 

“I love you ehh!” Came the reply from the other side of the room followed by an indignant cry from Steve Rogers as he scolded Bucky for joining in. 

Tony, Shuri, Peter and Bucky looked at each other - acknowledging that they at least had each other if no one else found it amusing. 

As Tony sidled into the seat next to Peter,  Peter grinned bashfully. 

Standing up, pushing his chair backwards, in a flare of dramatics that could only be described as Italian, Tony (for once in his life) towered above Peter and Shuri. 

“Hey Peter,” Tony spoke, his voice projecting across the room, everyone falling silent to see what the next move would be. 

Peter grinned at Shuri, who shrugged back. 

Tony’s hand twitched, “Fuck yo chicken strips!”

Peter looked slightly offended, but then started laughing nervously. His eyes widened as Tony put a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t mean nothing by it kid.” 

“Hey Shuri!” Shuri spun around to find Bucky sitting in the seat next to her, disapproving looks from his friends. 

Shuri knew Bucky vaguely before starting the programme, but beforehand she didn’t realise how much of a science nerd he was. Now they chatted about anything and everything, from relationship advice to quantum physics. 

“How’s lover boy over there?” She raised one delicate eyebrow, taking in his clean hair that looked as if it had been highlighted. 

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m here to quote vines and nerd out about science. Nothing else.” 

He regarded Tony slightly testitly, sore history still rather fresh, but they were working past it. 

Tony just smiled slightly, giving an awkward wave in acknowledgment. 

Peter sensing the awkward silence, pointed at the avocado on his plate, “I pulled up to the canteen today and they got this thing called free-free-fre sha voc ado!”

Howling laughter ensued. 

They had to make the most of it, they would more than likely be banned from the labs if they carried on in this fashion during lesson. 


	9. Getting Wasted In The Heat (Bucky, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Tony, Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A suggestion turns into a slightly heated debate.

“Anyone up for a drink this weekend?” 

Everyone stopped and stared at Natasha, eyes trained on her face. 

“Depends what we’re drinking,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, blue eyes darting but the rest of his body relaxed. 

Clint just inclined his head slightly, “As long as no one dares me to take out my hearing aid this time.” 

A mumble of apologies and agreements flickered around the room. 

“Anytime Natalia, of course I’m up for a drink,” Bucky grinned. 

Tony frowned, “I’m not free.” 

Everyone stared at him with intent and curiosity.

His eyes seemed to almost glimmer but his hands twitched nervously, “I’m seeing Stephen.”

“Not my Ste - not this Steven I hope!” Bucky’s face was now dusted with a sprinkling of red and Natasha just stared at him before mumbling something in Russian at him. 

Peggy just shook her head, “Seshing isn’t my thing.” 

“Never took you for one to smoke weed, Carter, of course you don’t sesh,” Clint snarked - looking geninuenly surprised when Peggy didn’t scream at him. 

“A sesh is drinking; in the UK we’re all alcoholics by the time we’re teenagers,” she frowned. 

Natasha grinned wickedly, “Well good thing for you, me and Bucky have Russian in our blood.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at Natasha, arms crossing his chest, “I have a Russian passport, that doesn’t mean I’m Russian by descent!” 

“Well I’m Irish,” Steve interrupted. Mocking glances were given but he just shrugged, leaning up against the wall. 

“And I’m Italian,” Tony snided, sneering slightly, “I don’t see what difference that makes.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow, smirking at Bucky slightly, “I have the luck of the Irish and don’t forget the British Isles are home to the best binge drinkers in the world.” 

Peggy nodded her head in agreement. 

“Cazzi!” Tony laughed, imitating Steve, “I’m Irish. I can hold my drink so well! But still can’t grow fucking potatoes!” 

Silence descended. The atmosphere grew tense. 

“I’m so sorry Mr-Wow-I-Said-Dickhead-In-Italian, you don’t even have a proper government,” Steve just tilted his head slightly. 

Bucky was staring shamelessly at Steve’s Adam’s apple as he spat out the words, Sam nudging his side slightly. 

Shrugging slightly Sam spoke, “Damn and I thought the Irish and Italians were meant to get on. Like Springsteen, man. He’s Irish and Italian.” 

“21:30, my dorm?” Clint interrupted, trying to tame the conversation before it got out of hand. 

Everyone just murmured in agreement. 

“I’ll bring some vodka,” Natasha and Bucky said in unision, before promptly fist bumping. 

“Guinness,” Steve offered. 

Sam smiled, “Cherry sourz are the best.” 

“If you are all converting to alcoholics, you can have some of my limoncello,” Tony shrugged slightly, “See how well you can hold that leprechaun.”

Clint just sighed, turning to look at Peggy as they both shook their heads. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These stereotypes are not my beliefs!   
> Also fellow Brits and Italians I shall represent you until my dying breath.


	10. I’m a Boy With Fire, I Love to Watch it Burn (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is drunk. He always regrets things he does when he’s drunk - that is if he can remember what happened. He might just regret not remembering.

Bucky was intoxicated. 

Literally and figuratively. 

They had started off with beer pong; he was brilliant at that. 

They then moved onto Never Have I Ever, he didn’t think his life so far had been wild in any sense but apparently it had been. 

Then came the drinking competition. He could hold his vodka - just not very well after two hour’s worth of drinking. He still held his own though, just he didn’t stand a chance next to Natasha or Steve.

His limbs felt like they were floating and were lead at the same time. He couldn’t distinguish the words rolling off his tongue between English, Russian or Irish Gaelic. 

Bucky was definitely drunk. 

There was also Steve Rogers. He was intoxicated on Steve. Hooked on him, addicted. 

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault that Steve looked so tempting in his skinny black jeans and a white top so tight it was practically see-through. The leather jacket wasn’t helping either. Bucky’s weakeness was leather. With sunglasses perched in a position where they were failing to obscure the startling blue of Steve’s eyes, he knew he was helpless. The blond of his hair had turned brown in the light, what was slicked back and controllled was now sticking up at angles and ruffled, as if Steve had just been fucked out of his mind. 

Bucky was definitely intoxicated. 

His cheeks were flushed a ruby red from the alcohol, his shirt lying somewhere on the floor as a dare, blue jeans clinging to his sweaty skin. 

That didn’t stop him from stumbling over to Steve and slinging his arm around Steve’s shoulder. 

The blonde barely acknowledged his presence, causing Bucky to whine. 

Steve’s head jolted up - electricity sparking in his eyes, before trailing down Bucky’s tanned chest. He shifted slightly in his chair. 

“Buck, you said you could hold a drink,” Steve’s words were slightly slurred but still were reasonably clear. 

Bucky grinned, swaying slightly, “I can!” 

Steve just grimaced and shook his head in defeat. 

“Dare or dare!” Clint screamed from across the room, gaining everyone’s attention. A small circle soon formed in the middle of the room. 

Sam’s eyes held a malicious glint as he glanced between Bucky and Steve, “Hey Bucky?”

Bucky lifted his head. 

“I dare you to give Steve a lap dance.” 

Immediately, Steve spluttered, cheeks turning red. 

Music started playing in the background and Bucky shrugged, disowning every ounce of dignity he had ever owned. Hips swaying, he moved in front of Steve. Suddenly, he was glad for his flexibility, as he spun around and swung a leg over Steve. 

His whole body froze as he lowered himself onto Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands gripped onto the bare skin around his waist, heat radiating of the both of them.

Clinging onto the collar of the leather jacket, Bucky pulled himself in closer, swaying his hips once more. He allowed himself to grin as Steve threw his head back.

Bucky was so screwed.  

Hands tore them apart, Natasha smirking knowingly, Sam looking slightly disgusted. 

Staring as Steve stood up, he couldn’t help but follow when he winked. Following Steve out of the room, trailing like a lost puppy, he felt his heart jump when Steve turned and looked at him. 

“Hey,” Steve breathed slowly. 

Bucky just licked his lip. 

Anticipation smothered the room  

Steve stepped forward, full of confidence. 

Bucky felt his back hit the wall. 

Lips were on his, hot, wet, overwhelming. 

His brain was shortcircuiting. 

Hands reached inside the top and clutched onto the blond hair, grasping at any piece of exposed skin. He felt like he was drowning. 

Years of repressed emotions seemed to be surfacing, but were still masked by pure lust. 

Steve wasn’t faring much better, hands gripping Bucky’s thighs and back - a moan tearing itself from his throat. 

Bodies pressed tight together. Memories intertwined. Souls that found and lost each other, found each other once again.

Bucky was sure he was in heaven, or passed out drunk somewhere and having a pleasant dream. He wasn’t sure which.

Steve’s hand was slipping lower and lower, hips grinding against each other, kisses being sucked all down his neck. Bucky just had to return the favour.

“Hey gays!”

Steve pulled away slightly as Bucky gasped for air.

“Hey gays!” Was repeated, slightly softer this time. 

Bucky, in his dazed state, somehow found the will to reply, “Don’t you mean guys?” 

“Did I fucking stutter? Please, I’ve known you both long enough to know you are straight as roundabouts.” Natasha’s voice carried, flooding their ears. “Anyway, before you suck each other off please come back in the room - we were half way through a game.”

Steve grabbed his hand and practically dragged him back next door. Bucky thought he might melt - making out was one thing, being manhandled was something else. 

Slumping onto the floor, Steve groaned slightly as Bucky sat himself in Steve’s lap and the game continued. 

* * *

 Bitterness seeped through Bucky’s mouth, mixing with the dryness on his tongue. His head was pounding slightly and his limbs felt heavy. Drinking competitions against Natasha were never his forte. 

Stumbling across the room, manoeuvring himself past Steve and Sam, he ungracefully tripped into the bathroom.

His jaw dropped open. Clammy hands reached up delicately.

A trail of bruises wound from the corner of his jaw to the joint in his neck.

Bucky couldn’t remember anything.

Bursting through the door, he knew he had to wake someone up. Slowly glancing at Steve’s sleeping form, Bucky noticed the blossoming hickey on his neck and frowned - someone had been making out with Steve and that someone wasn’t him. 

Sleepily, Steve cracked open his eyes, acknowledging Bucky’s presence with a slight wave of his hand before collapsing back into slumber on his bed. 

A hoarse, “morning,” was all Bucky could reply with as he stared at the exposed skin.

Bucky sighed, traipsing out of the room to find Natasha. 

“Natalia,” his voice was raspier than expected. 

Now he was growing frantic, “Natalia?” 

“What?” Her stern voice came from the kitchen table. 

“Steve has a hickey and it’s obvious he doesn’t like me like that,” Bucky wailed, throwing himself onto the chair next to her, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. 

An amused grin crept onto her face, “Are you sure you didn’t give Steve the hickey?” 

Burying his head in his hands, Bucky groaned, “I’m positive, he doesn’t like me like that and I’d remember if it was Steve.” 

Natasha nodded her head ever so slightly, trying to keep herself from laughing. 

Unbeknownst to them, in the room above, Steve was clinging onto Sam in shock. 

“Bucky had hickeys.” He stated. “Bucky had a trail of hickeys that someone here gave him. And it can’t have been me. Who was it?” 

Wincing, Sam looked at the mess that was Steve, “Steve, are you sure it wasn’t you that gave him those hickeys?” 

Steve’s eyes looked like rainclouds, “I would remember making out with Bucky, I’ve been wanting to do that since we were five.” 

Sam nodded in encouragement. 

“But he doesn’t like me like that, I thought he was trying to get with Natasha,” Steve muffled his sobs in the duvet. 

Sam could only roll his eyes and try his best to comfort Steve. 

Of course Sam had chosen to be friends with two of the biggest gay disasters that he could possibly meet. 

Of course neither of them could remember what happened last night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna go and tell you all not to drink underage because that would be hypocritical BUT please drink responsibly!  
> Also disaster gays are here for the win.


	11. Stupid, Like Me, Like That Which I Write (Bucky, Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spellings of muscles can be difficult, especially with an idiot sitting next to you.

“No, you absolute twat!” 

“But you know I’m right!” 

“That’s not how you spell gastrocnemius! And that’s definitely the wrong plane of movement!” Sam had crossed his arms over his chest, staring petulantly at Bucky. 

Bucky turned to look at M’Baku, “Please back me up on this one.” 

Rolling his eyes M’Baku just shrugged, “You’re both wrong.” 

Now Sam snapped around to stare, “G-A-S-T-R-O-N-E-M-I-U-S.” 

“That’s wrong you idiot!” Bucky cried throwing his hands in the air. “G-A-S-T-R-O-N-C-E-M-I-U-S.” 

Now it was M’Baku’s turn to look exesparated, “It’s neither of those spellings! It’s G-A-S-T-R-O-C-N-E-M-I-U-S!” 

Bucky and Sam both looked slightly annoyed, “No it’s not!” 

M’Baku just sighed, one delicate finger indicating to a spot on the sheet, “Shut up arguing, all you had to do was look.” 

Sulkily, Bucky turned around, scribbling something illegible, before turning back around. 

“Fine, but tell him that it’s the sagittal plane where abduction and adduction occur!” Sam pleaded, eyes drooping slightly. 

“It’s the longitudinal plane,” Bucky snarked. 

Sighing loudly, M’Baku dropped his head into his hands. He had nothing against either of them - truthfully he liked both of them - but they were honestly stupid at times. And very annoying. He didn’t know why they decided to sit together. 

“Bucky,” he started, annoyance sleeping into his voice, “You’re great but you are really thick at times. There’s no such plane as that. Longitudinal is an axis.” 

Sam burst out laughing, a kind of laugh that showed he had no mercy for the person on the receiving end of a bitchy comment. 

M’Baku’s fixed his gaze on Sam. 

Sam gulped. 

“Sam, you’re also great but god-fucking-damn, it’s not the sagittal plane either. Now, stop mocking Bucky for getting something wrong when you don’t know the answer either!” Sam’s mouth dropped open slightly, but M’Baku continued. “It’s the fucking frontal plane, and please for the love of what ever spirits are out there; shut the fuck up and let me do my work. Go and annoy T’Challa!” 

M’Baku drew in a deep breath. T’Challa’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing before his stoic expression broke into an easy grin. 

“White Wolf, Wilson, don’t you dare even think about asking me for answers,” T’Challa smiled. 

Sam and Bucky sighed, looking at each other. 

“Why did I decide to sit next to this idiot?” Bucky mused out loud. 

“I don’t know maybe because you’re also an idiot?” M’Baku snapped, “You’re perfect for each other!” 

“Yeah but he’s got a thing for Steve remember?” Sam blurted, wincing as Bucky’s eyes narrowed at him. 

“Sam. I might not know any of these answers but I know that you don’t fucking spill my crush to everyone!” Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“Get a grip Barnes, you don’t even know where the femur is. It’s not gonna harm you, no one’s paying attention.” 

Bucky sighed in defeat, slowly collapsing forward onto the desk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if sports studies is a lesson in the USA but it is over here. So why not nerd this story out a bit? Also I am shockingly bad at STEM so I can’t really write about that.


End file.
